


Living in the Present

by EllyAvon



Series: Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: BAMF Pepper, Definitely Kissing, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-OT3, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Being Tony, You asked for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllyAvon/pseuds/EllyAvon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has adjusted as well as can be expected to the 21st century, but he still can't predict things like this. </p><p>There's lots more kissing in the future than he thought there would be-- or maybe it's kissing in the present.</p><p>Part Three of "Everyone's Poly Because Avengers," but can easily be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in the Present

Steve has always thought the future was weird. On good days, he gets to the point where he stops thinking about where (when?) he lives as the future, and is able to just go about his life. Then something like _this_ happens, and it is definitely, _definitely_ not 1945 anymore.

Tony and Pepper are sitting on the love seat across from him, and they both look tense. Pepper has one of Tony’s hands wrapped in both of hers, and they make a funny picture, the one in a pristine white business suit and bright red heels, the other in a battered concert tee shirt and ratty black jeans. He knows, though, that they’re both wearing their favorite outfits. The outfits they wear when they have to get something important done.

And that makes what just happened a little stranger, a little headier.

They look nervous.

He supposes so, they just asked him on a _date_ , and he hasn’t said a word.

He thinks about it, and moves the emphasis around.

 _They_ asked him on a date.

They asked _him_ on a date.

Any way he thinks about it, it’s still making his mind swirl.

Sure, love is the same in all times. Hand holding and kissing and sex haven’t changed, but the rules have changed. For the better, Steve thinks. It used to be people of different races couldn’t get married, and people just didn’t get divorced. They just didn’t, or if they did, they were real quiet-like about it. Two months ago, Steve got an invitation to a _divorce party_. Of course, everyone with a SHIELD.gov email address had gotten invited, but it didn’t change the fact that it’d been a real invitation to a real event.

Steve had also never really known anybody who prefered the same sex, and back then he wasn’t about to admit that his eyes were drawn to _people_ , not just to ladies. Nowadays he knows people who only prefer people of the same sex, and a whole bunch of people who claim no preference whatsoever-- like Natasha, Clint, and Tony just for starters. He was sort of working on getting himself mentally filed in with that last group, but it’s still difficult.

None of that seems to be a problem in this time, mostly. And Steve is fine with it. It looks like freedom to him, so he counts these changes as improvements, and goes about his life.

This, though. He’d been in a different time for almost four years now, and he’d never heard of a couple asking a single man on a date with them. The three of them had eaten dinner together and gone to movies and shows and galas. And sometimes Tony spent more time with him than Pepper, and sometimes Pepper spent more time with him than Tony, but they were friends. He knew Tony was going to ask her to marry him. They were a couple, a pair.

His hearing was excellent, but he felt the need to repeat what Pepper had said anyway, maybe he was confused.

“You two, the both of you, want to go on a date with me? At the same time? All of us?”

“That’s the idea,” Tony said, “We wanna take you on a date. I mean, several dates, but starting with one date. Unless you want to technically count it as a date with each of us, in which case, we’d like to date you simultaneously. So, there’d be two dates-- I guess three-- since we’ll still be together, too,” he rambles

“A date. A date date? With, flowers and flirting and... sex?” He manages.

“Just so, if that’s amenable to you,” Pepper says in her calmest voice, but there’s a pretty flush high in her cheeks. She reminds him no small amount of Peggy. Even as Peggy was small and voluptuous and all sensuous dark hair and entrancing chocolate eyes-- Pepper is a willowy, lissome sylph on dangerous-looking five-inch heels topped off with a crown of flaming red hair and eyes as blue and wide as the pacific. Like Peggy, though, she can bring a room full of high-powered fellas to full stop with a clack of her heel and a well-verbalized threat. He tries hard not to stare at her for a myriad of reasons.

Steve has long since happily resigned himself to the fact that he will probably always fall for strong, dangerous women. Pepper is even more than that, though-- she’s fun and reliable and knows about art and music. She’s an intoxicating conversationalist and she manages Tony with an impossible combination of strictness and adoration. “The sex is, of course, negotiable,” she continues, “a bonus, actually. But we’ve both found that we have strong romantic feelings for you--”

“And sex feelings. Don’t forget sex feelings,” Tony adds, though he’s blushing a bit too, and tapping his foot wildly. Steve tries not to let himself look at Tony, by old habit. He’s worked his whole life not to look at any man like that.

Natasha told him that homophobia comes from men’s fear that other men will treat them like they treat women. That’s nasty in a wide variety of ways, thinking that women are still treated poorly and that men still haven’t learned to get along with everyone else on the planet.

Steve treats women, _people,_ with the utmost respect he can muster, but he still has always felt a little guilty about the way he looks at Tony. Felt like he shouldn’t let his eyes linger on Tony’s mouth, his lean, strong arms, or watch raptly when his eyes go dark and bright with a paradigm-shifting idea. It astounds him how frequently it happens. How frequently that Tony disappears into his workshop for days and it can take both he and Pepper’s combined efforts to pull him out before he resurfaces with a gadget that changes the world or collapses in a heap. He demonstrates a frustrating combination of wild egoism and horrible self-esteem; no matter what he says or thinks of himself, he is a genius. It’s not his genius, though, that lights up the room with raw charm and spontaneous and equal references to Dog Cops (which Clint eats up) and Shakespeare (which Natasha adores). It wasn’t Tony’s genius that flew a nuclear warhead into space. That’s Tony’s heart. So he had let himself look anyway, and dealt with the guilt later.

But if Tony’s been looking _back_ , well, maybe that’s different.

“Strong feelings in general,” Pepper concedes, “and, we are wondering if you feel the same way about us. And if you do, if you’d like to go on a date.”

He sits back in his chair and takes in the sight of the both of them. If there is a Wikipedia article about power couples (and he's pretty sure there is; there's a Wikipedia article for almost everything) it almost certainly has their picture. They're both beautiful, brilliant, influential.

He loves them.

He’d bring them flowers, he’d make them breakfast, he’d do whatever he could to keep them both safe, happy, warm, loved. He’d let them bracket him as he slept. He’d let them hold him when he was hurt. He marvels, dazedly, at the human heart’s infinite capacity for love. He loves them. He would do anything for the two people sitting before him.

But he’s not sure he can do this.

He’s not Captain America for no reason, and today is not the day Steve Rogers becomes a coward. So, he tells them the truth.

“I do. Have feelings. Strong ones. Romantic ones--” he begins,

“Sex feelings?” Tony interrupts, and Steve catches Peppers gaze as they both roll their eyes, and Tony pouts at being ganged up on.

“Sex feelings, yes, if that’s a real thing, Tony. But-- you two are together. I was figuring you were fixing to get married-- and I don’t see where I fit into that. I care for you both too much to--”

“Steve,” Pepper interrupts, “I’d like you to meet Anthony Edward Stark,” she says, wrapping her arm around the man’s shoulders, “this man has already tried everything you can think of to attempt to get me to leave him, including but not limited to, hiding his own poisoning, being kidnapped, having me escort scores of women and men from his bedroom while he drools on the floor, flying a bomb into a wormhole to another dimension, bringing me fruit that could send me into full on anaphylaxis, goading me into screaming matches the Real Housewives of damn near everywhere are jealous of, blowing himself up several times, forgetting my birthday, and just this morning, he stepped on my toe.” She pauses for a breath, and Steve stares at her, wide-eyed. “There is nothing, and I do mean _nothing_ that you can do to, with, by, next to, for, on, or in Tony that could get me to leave his nonsensical ass.”

Tony, for his part, has the sense to look sheepish, but kisses her on the cheek, and gives her a speaking glance. After a beat of silence, he turns back to Steve, raises both eyebrows and says, with palms out, “So, yeah, same speech, backwards though, extolling the virtues of this magnificent creature. Not leaving her, shouldn’t, couldn’t, can’t, won’t.”

Steve sighs, all they’ve done is explain to him exactly why they fit together so perfectly, can’t be without one another, “So, what is it that you need me for, then?”

“You.” Tony says abruptly, and rather too loudly. Steve is just a little taken aback by the sheer passion in his outburst, “We need _you_. We want _you_. We both do, and since, as demonstrated, there’s nothing you can shake here, except the bed, and even that, could use an excuse to make us a new frame-- how expensive do you think adamantium would be--”

“Focus,” Pepper chides, and pets a hand through his dark, tousled hair.

“Okay, yes, focusing. You. We want you to be you, we want you to hold hands with us, to accompany us on vacation, to help me with Pepper and to help Pepper with me, and for us both to help you, however we can. I won’t go on about the sex feelings, because I think there’s actually a series of websites dedicated to your abs alone, and yes, we’ve thought of that part many times, but that’s not what we really want. We want your ridiculous morning hair and your inability to keep a t-shirt for more than a week, your ridiculous propensity for eating weird combinations of whatever’s in the fridge. We want to do all the stuff we’ve always done together-- just-- we want you to come home to us, with us, at the end of the day. We want you because you’re brave and strong and honest and steady and-- well, kind of a goofball and like, illegal levels of handsome.”

Steve is blushing now, reeling a little with the reality that they really do want _him_.

“A date, Steve,” Pepper says quietly, “maybe a few, to see how we all feel. We’re not saying it’s going to be easy, but as a group,” she gestures eloquently to the three of them, “we go for what we want and we work to have it and keep it. We want you. I would bet money that you want us,”

“I’m not afraid of things being a little unorthodox,” he says carefully, “but, what you’re proposing is strange, isn’t it? Even for this time?”

“Yes,” Pepper admits, “It’s rare and lots of people don’t even know it’s an option. It takes a lot of work, too. It takes emotional intelligence and honesty and communication. It’s a deviation, but not a deviance,” she explains.

“But, you have a supercomputer in your pocket and Natasha did 23 fouettes in a row yesterday without ballet shoes on, and Thor is this close to being a spokesperson for IKEA, except that they don’t sell pop tarts, and Clint just now found out that archery is an Olympic sport, because he was _literally_ raised in a circus, so we may never see him again, and that’ll kill Coulson, except I really think you do only get one resurrection per lifetime,” Tony asserts, and Pepper smiles at him with one eyebrow arched, as though to say, _the point, Tony, find it,_ “So, if having two lovers is the weirdest thing in _your_ life? Well, color me surprised, I guess.”

“And it’s not as though we need to do a press release. We do manage to lead somewhat private lives--” Steve raises an eyebrow at her, “Well, you and I can manage to live semi-private lives, while Mister Playboy Philanthropist here mouths off to congress.”

“Just because you’re both filthy rich and stupid-brilliant too doesn’t mean you get to leave off the _billionaire genius_ part of my resume," Tony asserts, one elegant finger pointed skyward, "Furthermore, I am not speaking to congress at the moment, they hurt my feelings. I would have to be speaking to them in order to mouth off to them.”

“I see how you need my help,” Steve says wryly to Pepper.

“He’s worth it,” she says, with a small, uncharacteristically shy smile.

“So, what do you say, Cap?” Tony asks, “table for three tonight at a place of your choosing?”

Steve thinks about this. He looks at the two of them, so vivid and alive and brilliant in their own ways. He knows he wants this, knows it won’t be easy, that it could end in flames, that he could lose both of them. But, if only for today, if only for this moment, he’d have them both, for as long as they’ll take him.

“How do you feel about my dining room?” He offers quietly, then watches surprise and pleasure bloom on their faces.

Pepper stands, and for the first time ever, he sees her totter on her heels, just briefly. She taps over and sits on the couch next to him. She’s so close, and she smells like vanilla and lilac. The freckles stand out in stark relief against the pink flush of her cheeks. He gives her what he hopes is a smile, but his heart is thrumming in his chest and his hands are clenched on his knees-- he’s trying so hard not to touch her right now.

As though sensing this, she takes one of his hands in hers, unfurling it firmly, and lacing their fingers together. And her hand is so thin, so frail, so tiny, but he can’t-- doesn’t want-- to deny himself any further. When she reaches up with the other hand, tilts his head down, and brings their mouths together, he doesn’t resist. A jolt goes through him and he hears her make a breathy, pleased noise as he catches her bottom lip between his. She slides nails slowly through his hair, down the back of his neck and he feels it all the way down his body. Her mouth is soft and sweet and moves slowly over his. He feels like she’s melting into him, and it is all so very, very good.

They’re both breathing hard and shaking, just a little, when they break apart, seconds after they’ve started.

Steve stares at her, and she smiles. Then, they turn simultaneously to Tony.

Tony is sitting a few feet from him, his mouth slack, his pupils blown wide. His hands, his whole marvelously kinetic body, for once in his life, is completely still. He opens his mouth, but no sounds come out. Steve has a brief moment of panic, that actually seeing it has changed Tony’s mind, that he can’t do this after all; share the most important person in his life.

But then, Tony stands, and if Steve had any questions about how Tony felt about the situation, they were answered soundly by the state of the other man’s pants. That, and the swiftness with which he crossed the room, knelt on the floor, and applied his mouth, that smart, brilliant mouth, to Steve’s.

Kissing Tony is not like kissing anyone he’s ever kissed before. He’s never kissed a man, for one, and the hair on his face is sharp and soft and strange and oddly wonderful. He’s making desperate little sounds that vibrate around in his head. His tongue does unspeakable things, flicking over his lips and into his mouth, teasing and tormenting. He tastes like coffee and candy and _heat_. He realizes that Tony’s hands are braced on his thighs, one of them piled on top of the one Pepper is still holding.

He breaks off the kiss, prompting a whining noise from Tony, and stares at their hands, three hands, tangled up on his right quadriceps.

“Y’okay?” Tony asks, flitting his gaze back and forth between the two of them,

“Mmmm,” Pepper says, her blue eyes a little hazy.

“Uh-huh,” Steve manages.

“Good,” Tony says with an overly serious nod, and turns to capture Pepper’s mouth in a kiss.

He’s seen them kiss before, countless times. But never like this, never with such obvious want and with their raw feelings so obviously bared. Tony’s hand is rubbing his leg and Pepper’s other hand is still in his hair. He feels a little lightheaded and like he might be grinning.

Then, something seems to occur to Tony, and he leans back from Pepper, their lips come apart with an audible _smack_.

“Good,” he repeats, “Quick vote, um, because, I’m not going to get anything else done today if we don’t part ways real soon here, can we do the rest of our negotiating at or after dinner? Because seriously, JARVIS can only keep the others out of this room for so long-- not that I’m not all for relocating, but--”

Steve is briefly surprised that Tony is the one providing the voice of reason, but he nods, “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Let’s uh, dinner in my suite? Seven?”

“Seven,” Pepper agrees, whipping out her Starkphone and tapping in the appointment.

“JARVIS?” Tony calls out, and Steve stops himself from looking at the ceiling. He knows JARVIS does not live in the ceiling, but he’s not at 100% brainpower at the moment. “Can you buzz me at six so I can go on this very important date at seven?”

“Of course, sir. Captain Rogers, would you like a reminder as well?”

Steve smiles, “Oh no, I think I’ll remember.”

Pepper gives him a kiss on the cheek, and squeezes his hand, then kisses Tony on the top of his head. She straightens her crisp, white suit, and says, “Have a wonderful day, gentlemen. I’ll see you tonight,” and with that, she strides away with percussive clicks. Steve gives himself permission to stare at her as she leaves, since that’s what Tony’s doing, and it is a sight worth watching. He’s sure he’s not imagining an extra little sway in her hips as she saunters to the elevator bay.

Before he knows it, Tony’s mouth is on his again, fervent and hot, then gone again in an instant.

Steve gapes at him, and Tony smiles mischievously, “Got work to do, Cap, Nat wants a set of Widow Bites in gold and Clint has this crazy idea for a crossbow that mounts on his wrist, which is insane, but hey, so am I. I've got lunch with Brucey, always entertaining. Also, your motorcycle isn’t going to fix itself. Why did you throw it through a jeep in the first place?” He tilts his head inquisitively, brown eyes dancing. Steve realizes he actually wants him to answer that question.

“Uh, Hydra, remember?” Steve offers, furrowing his brows, thinking about one of their most recent battles and its aftermath. Those memories clash so bizzarely with what’s just happened that he’s thrown, just briefly.

“Those guys are butts,” Tony declares, then plants another lingering kiss, ending with a slow, toothy little bite on his lower lip. Steve’s heart stutters a little at that. He’s not sure anyone’s ever _bitten_ him before.

Then Tony’s rolling to his feet, and loping out of the room, with only one very heated backward glance. Steve hears him start to sing, clear and strong and happy, as he heads down the stairs to his workshop.

Steve is left alone in the living room with a dopey smile on his face and a ridiculous hard-on.

This is just how the future works, he thinks to himself. It’s not even 1000 hours and his life has been flipped upside down. You never, ever know what’s going to happen.

He remembers the little noise that stuttered out of Pepper when she kissed him, and the lingering burn of Tony’s goatee on his face.

Yeah. This is a good day; a good day to live in the present.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was the un-beta'd written-in-24-hours epilogue to "Advice From The Spider." It's wordy, it probably has comma splices, and it's somehow longer than the story by which it was inspired. Story of my life, ha ha. :) I still kinda like it. Thanks for encouraging me to write this little piece, fellow fanfolk! I hope you enjoy!


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